An Old Home

I sketched a home and painted it white The wind took over and set it aflight To paint ‘cross the sky and mix into blues It soon was lost in a variety of hues. I strode in the grass and pondered why The wind wouldn’t teach me how to fly To float among tree tops and paint a new home And with my signature, I’d make it my own I travelled passed places, in my childhood, I’d found To realize my home was here, on the ground.

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